Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
When a job promotion opened up at my workplace and I filled in as acting-whatever for that same position—for the same pay with more work—and my boss took their sweet time with the hiring process, the job was given to a replica of its previous incompetent occupant. The irony is I'll end up training this person with my same benefits-less hourly wage, while they stumble through the learning process with their cozy salary in tow. Happy new year to me. — Filled In For What?
I'm tired of hearing your cat calls. Staring at my breasts while I'm talking = not cool. Whistle at me again and I'm going to turn violent. And if I had a dollar for every random guy who told me out of the blue that I'm his soulmate, I would be one wealthy woman. Why any of you think it's OK to send suggestive messages while drunk is beyond me, especially when you’re married. Men, let's get this straight: if a woman is nice, it doesn't mean she's hitting on you.
— Next Time It’s Your Job